Olver's Journey
by chones
Summary: This is my first attempt at fanfiction. I decided to write something about Olver. His story takes place fifteen years after the Last Battle. As he's aged and gained experiential knowledge, Olver's lost much of his boyish innocence and become much darker. This opening chapter takes place in Andor in an inn called the Red Hawk where he meets a strange woman.
1. Chapter 1

_This is something I wrote quickly tonight. I plan to flesh out the back story, especially his estrangement from Mat, in future chapters. In fact, I see that fifteen year timespan as central to understanding who Olver has become. Be gentle please! _

This looks like a good inn, the man thought. It's out of the way, a little dingy, and likely filled with potential marks, not to mention one or two attractive serving girls. The man, coated in layers of grim from weeks on the road, motioned his horse off to the side, tossed the reins of his horse to an awaiting stable boy.

"Rub him down and give him extra oats," the man tersely ordered the lad. Flipping a copper to the stable hand, he walked up the steps and entered the brightly lit common room.

He scanned the room quickly, sizing up its occupants. The room itself was ordinary. A medium size inn with roughly about half the tables occupied. Across from the entrance was the bar with serving girls carrying trays of food, running back and forth through a doorway in the back that must have been a kitchen the door back to what must be the kitchen. Directly to his right, along the far wall, near the stairs leading to the guest rooms, a fire blazed trying, successfully, to take the worst of the winter's chill from the room. To his left was an elevated stage occupied by a man with a harp and the telltale multicolored cloak drape about his shoulders. Young for a gleeman that one, the man thought to himself, and not terribly good. A novice perhaps.

It was a few hours after dusk, so many of the respectable folk had long since cleared out, leaving only what appeared to be some regulars and other customers in a state of similar disrepair from the road. A man slept dreamily slouched over a table with a tankard of ale still cupped in his hand. Two men, merchants probably given their dress, were seated at a table in the corner of the room speaking in hushed tones over wine. The majority of the inn's remaining clientele were listening with baited breath as a gleeman plucked a wooden harp that had seen better days as he wove an unfamiliar tale about Tarmon Gai'don, the Last Battle.

Alas, there were no dice games at the moment, but that would surely change as the night wore on. No Aiel either. Thankfully he saw no telltale ageless faces among the crowd either, peculiar since he was so close to Tar Valon. Perhaps his luck was changing for the better, the man thought to himself.

"Bloody Aes Sedai," he muttered as he moved toward the fireplace, away from the tone-deaf gleeman.

"Wine!," he shouted to no one in particular. "And be quick about it." Sitting down, he brushed away someone's leftover crumbs and spilled ale with the sleeve of his coat, as he tried to tune out the unharmonious strumming of the gleeman's harp.

After a few minutes a moderately attractive, serving girl with bright brown eyes and brown hair that trailed down to her waist, came back with his wine. She lacked many of the curves he appreciated on a woman, but she _was_ pretty. He thanked her for the drink as he admired the cut of her sturdy wool dress.

"My eyes are up here," she said flatly. "Can I get you anything else?" In a tone that suggested, given his attire and his disheveled state, that she felt it was unlikely that he could afford more.

"What?...err…I didn't mean..." he said as he handed her a copper for the drink. Bloody ashes!

Never one to back down from a challenge, the man licked his palms, brushed back his unruly hair, and put on his best smile.

"I'm Olver. What's your name?" With a short sniff, and a roll of her eyes, the serving girl left Olver to drink, alone.

"Sometimes you win, sometimes not." Olver said under his breath as he took a sip of the wine.

The vintage was Andoran and quite good. If he learned anything from the time spent with Talmanes, appreciating a good wine was it. Olver turned his attention back to the gleeman who was nearing the end of his tale about Tarmon Gai'don. His fingers strummed the harp quicker and quicker, the pace of his voice matched the tempo of the harp as he reached the climax of the tale.

"The Dragon Reborn, Rand Al'Thor, embraced _saidan_ and vanquished all the enemies on the field; smiting them down with lightning shooting out from his fingertips. Daggers of the One Power shot from his eyes. Trollocs and Darkfriends everywhere recoiled in horror as the Light was too bright for their eyes to look upon. The field of Merrilor was bathed in blood that night…"

He was no Thom, that's for certain. It had been nearly fifteen years since he had sounded the Horn of Valere. Of that night, he remembered very little, expect for the terror he felt. That never went away no matter how much ale he drank. But he had heard the tale from Talmanes and Mat so many times in the immediate aftermath to know this gleeman had gotten much of it wrong. The truth, it seemed, mattered little to the patrons of the Red Hawk who cheered loudly as the gleeman finished his tale with a flourish.

Mat. He hadn't thought of him in years, much less seen him since the night of their falling out. Too big for his britches that one. Prince of Ravens, ha! Mat had had little time for Olver as Tuon and he secured Seanchan in the political mess that had ensued following the Last Battle. He had even less time when they ruled a unified Seanchan. Mat had sent Olver to squire with Talmanes in Cairhienin several years back to learn discipline and, hopefully, earn a place in Talmanes' service. More likely, Mat simply wanted Olver out of his hair. Mat _had_ changed since his marriage to Tuon. He was less fun, didn't dice—well, not as often as _before_, and…responsible. The word oozed out of his mouth with disdain. Responsible Mat Cauthon with his fine silks and army. He had refused to help Olver with his quest to avenge the death of his parents by finding the bloody Shaido that killed them. This, more than anything else, is what encouraged Olver to leave Mat for Cairhienin. He hadn't seen or spoken to Mat since then.

"Bloody Aiel," cursed Olver as he took another drink from his flagon, which to his surprise was empty.

Pounding the empty flagon on the table, Olver cried out for more wine.

"Hold your horses," yelled the innkeeper over the din of the crowd. Olver looked around. Amidst his brooding, the inn common room had filled up quite a bit. The majority of tables were now full with serving girls running around frantically trying to keep pace with the onslaught of new orders.

A little while later, the same pretty serving girl brought him his wine. As she set the wine on the table, Olver reached out to grab her hand, meeting her eyes, he fished out a silver Andoran coin. "There's more where this came from if you keep my cup full. I'll take a flagon of meat or whatever you have left too."

Reappraising Olver, the serving girl bobbed an awkward curtsey as the coin vanished somewhere within the folds of her dress. "Yes, milord." As she walked away, she casually turned her head over her shoulder, flashed a bright smile, and said, "Sheena," as she vanished into the crowd.

Smiling to himself, Olver sat up a little straighter. He may not woo women with his homely face, but with enough coin, and his best smile, Olver knew he could melt even the iciest countenance. Looking around, a group of well-dressed nobles had started up a dice game in a far corner of the inn.

As he got up to join in the game, Olver thought to himself: "perhaps this night will not be a total loss after all."

Much later, spirits up, Olver resumed his seat at his table with a coin purse much heavier than when he sat down. His food had grown cold, but that didn't matter. He'd eaten far worse. Mat may have been a lot of things, but he did teach Olver a few things about dicing. Olver didn't have Mat's luck with the dice, but he often won more than he lost. At the very least, he felt good that he relieved those young nobles of their coin in a respectable fashion instead of cutting their purse strings in the midst of this particular common room. He could have done it. It wouldn't have been difficult, he thought. But it was far preferable to win money than potentially cause a disturbance, which might cause the wrong sort of people to take notice.

Perhaps he's only a bard, Olver thought to himself. There's no way any self-respecting gleeman could be _that _bad. It doesn't matter, you have more coin than you came in with. It's time to see if your luck will hold. Bah! I need more wine.

He signaled Sheena who came over to refill his cup.

"What time do you leave tonight?" inquired Olver.

"As soon as these sorry lots clear the common room. Why do you ask, milord?" Shenna asked coyly.

Instead of responding, Olver stood up a quickly, albeit it shakily, grabbed Sheena by the wrist and pulled her laughingly towards the dance floor. The bard was playing a song that was familiar to Olver, "The Farmer's Daughter." He had never been a particularly great dancer, but his time with Talmanes had not been a total waste. He did learn some court etiquette, begrudgingly. Plus, his wine and winnings had put him in a much better mood.

The tune was simple enough. It was a nonsensical story about a farmer, his daughter, a highwayman, and, for some reason, a cow. The dance itself was also simple. It required two lines: one of women and the other of men facing each other. Pairs of couples would come together in the center, lock arms, twirl one way and then the other, before moving along to the next person in the line. As everyone came around to their original partner, each pair would meet once again in the center, and dance through the center of the two lines as they clapped to keep the beat.

Sheena laughed gleefully as Olver guided her through the steps, twirling her faster and faster. Sheena lit up the room with her laugh. For a moment, Olver lost himself in the dance. Indeed, with a girl in his arms, in an inn with a fat purse at his side, dancing with the beat of the crowd, his problems, his anger, his memories, and, most of all his failures which ate at his soul, faded away. All that mattered was this moment, and for a brief second, he was happy.

"Get back to work you malingering whelp!" yelled a skinny man, who must have been the innkeeper. "This isn't a Domani pleasure house. I don't pay you to carouse with our guests!"

With an apologetic look, Sheena disentangled herself from Olver arms and vanished into the kitchens. Shrugging, Olver walked back to his table, sat down, and picked up his wine, tapping his feet to the music. Perhaps this bard isn't too bad after all, Olver thought.

Looking around the room for another partner, Olver saw a young woman sitting alone smiling, clapping to the music. Olver hadn't previously noticed her; she must have entered while he danced with Sheena. Dress in a fine gown of dark blue silk, she had short brown hair, blue eyes, and the pale features of a Cairhienin. She looked the part of a noble woman, but surely no noble woman of good-standing would be caught dead in a place like this. Although he had spent time with Talmanes, he avoided court as much as possible. He didn't recognize her and she wore no insignia to identify her house.

Perhaps the daughter of a merchant or minor lord, he thought to himself? Bah! It matters little. Finishing his wine, Olver got up and moved toward the young woman, trying to brush out the worst of the wrinkles in his tunic.

"Would you care to dance?" Olver inquired as he gave the best impression of a courtly bow he could manage in his current state.

What the hell, he thought to himself, it worked earlier. Before she could reject him, Olver grabbed her by the arm, pulled her from her seat, and twirled her onto the dance floor. She didn't resist, that's a good sign Olver thought as he smiled at her. The tune was one he didn't recognize and the steps were more complicated than the previous dance. He silently cursed himself as he faltered to the unfamiliar music. Red-faced, and losing his confidence quickly, he was about to apologize to the young woman so he could make a quick escape with some dignity.

Before he could utter a word, however, the woman looked up at him with an enigmatic smile and laughed as she proceeded to lead HIM through the paces of the dance. Light! She was graceful. Each time Olver faltered, the beautiful young woman would tighten her grip on his hands, locking her piercing blue eyes with his, encouraging him to continue. If he moved the wrong way, she moved her body in such a manner that corrected his misstep without losing the rhythm of the music. Gaining confidence with each step, Olver once again led her through the dance floor. Her eyes flashed with delight as Olver improvised dance steps, adding an extra twirl here and a dip there.

All too soon the music ended. He knew he should release her but he couldn't. He held her there on the dance floor looking into those blue eyes. Shrugging, he leaned forward to kiss her. Shock replaced the smile on her lips. Quicker, and with much more strength than he thought possible, the girl pressed two hands on his chest and shoved. Before he could register what was happening, he was flying backwards through the air. He thought he saw something on her hand twinkle in the firelight.

"Blood and Bloody Ashes!" Olver yelled in shock. He landed awkwardly on a table which braced some of his fall, but as his momentum took him to the ground, he felt his head smack the ground, hard. Dazed, he reached up to touch the back of his throbbing head. As he brought his hand down, he could see it was covered in blood, his blood. "Bloody Ash…" And the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"You are an attractive young woman. You must learn to use the One Power eff…" a woman said, her voice teeming with reproach.

"Do not lecture me on the proper use of the One Power, Ellen. I was simply…startled…when he tried to kiss me. That is all. I had no wish to harm him," responded another woman's voice. "It was an accident and I Healed him."

"An accident," the first woman responded with some amusement. "No matter. We must learn the identity of this young man. He had that strange ter'angrel in his bags. We must know where…"

"Uggh," Olver moaned, waking up from his sleep.

"He's waking."

Olver opened his eyes and found himself in a small room, threadbare except for the curtains on the windows. The walls were whitewashed and, aside from the bed on which he lay, other than a dresser and a washbasin, there were no other pieces of furniture in the room. Judging by the light coming through the window, it was after noon. Where was he? He wondered. What happened? The last thing he remembered was dancing with a pretty girl and …

"Aes Sedai!" exclaimed Olver.

"Yes, you are correct, we are Aes Sedai," said an unfamiliar woman dressed in a red gown. She was not unattractive; pretty rather than beautiful. She had dark black hair and dark brown eyes. More immediate to his present circumstances, she had the telltale ring of Aes Sedai on her finger. Interestingly, neither had held the shawl long enough to attain the agelessness for which Aes Sedai are known. Bloody ashes. He was trying to avoid Aes Sedai and now he was locked in a room with two. He needed to find a way to get out of here as quickly as possible.

"I said, my name is Ellen," said the woman in the red dress, then she gestured to his attacker, "and this is Melidorine. Who are you?"

"My name is Orlan…Aes Sedai." Olver quickly lied, adding the perfunctory title as an afterthought. Better to be cautious and respectful. He was lying on a bed in the center of the room underneath some wool covers, and he was naked. The two Aes Sedai stood at the foot of the bed inspecting him like he was a caged rat. One of the Aes Sedai, Melidorine, tapped her tooth with a nail as she looked at him with a concerned expression. Ellen had her arms crossed and stared at him intently. It was clear that she did not believe his lie.

"If you would please hand me my clothing, I will be out of your hair as quickly as possible…Aes Sedai," said Olver as obsequiously as he could manage. Just fawn over them, Aes Sedai love to have their egos inflated.

"You have just been Healed, child. You cannot leave just yet. Since Melidorine caused your injury, we must first see you are well enough to travel. Head wounds are a nasty business," Ellen said as her mouth turned into a smile. "Melidorine."

Startled, Melidorine looked over at the other Aes Sedai who motioned her to leave the room. "We'll await you downstairs in the common room for lunch Master…Orlan. You must be starving," Ellen said casually over her shoulder as she bustled Melidorine out the door. "Your belongings are in the dresser." Ellen closed the door behind her.

Heart pounding, Olver counted to fifty before he tried to sit up. At first he expected to feel something, perhaps dizziness after his fall but, in truth, he felt revitalized. He was hungry, however. Wrapping the bedding around his naked flesh, Olver quietly tip-toed to the doorway. He put his ear to the door, but heard nothing. Walking over to the dresser on the far wall by the window, Olver dug out his clothes. His saddlebags were next to his boots. Apparently, the Aes Sedai had had his clothes cleaned because his clothes were no longer stiff and stained with sweat from weeks on the road. Perhaps they used that as a pretext to rifle through his gear; he wouldn't put it past Aes Sedai. Anxiously he searched for his cloak. If they had searched that too…

No, Olver thought to himself. Had they searched my cloak, he would be in chains. He found the cloak underneath his saddlebags. It appeared undisturbed. Searching through the inner pockets he had sewed himself, he found what he was looking for. An innocuous small sphere, wrapped in wax-sealed paper. Smiling to himself, he palmed the ball and proceeded to dress. He gently placed the ball in the pocket sewed on the inside of his cuff for easy access. This might come in handy. Grabbing a throwing knife from his saddlebags, he slipped that up his sleeve too. From a pocket near the bottom of the saddlebags, Olver pulled out a small circular medallion attached to a chain and placed it around his neck. He _should _have been wearing this last night shaking his head as he mentally chastised himself.

All of this could have been avoided had he simply been more careful. After weeks on the road, the temptation of good wine and a hot meal had lulled him into complacency. He hadn't seen an Aes Sedai, or anyone for that matter, in weeks and assumed he was safe. He knew he should have skirted Whitebridge. He rationalized his weakness because he thought he would be able to inquire about the two he had been following for weeks. Although their trail went cold a few days back, he knew they would have avoided Whitebridge. Aiel avoided wetlander cities when possible; these two Aiel in particular. He simply wanted a hot meal and some companionship. He was getting soft.

Olver took stock of his situation. Peering out the window, he was greeted to a third story drop, straight down. Damn. In a pinch, he could make the fall, but he didn't want to risk injury. Looking up, there were no good handholds to climb onto the roof. He'd have to find an alternative way out.

Perhaps there's a back exit that connects to this level. All he needed to do was find it, quickly. Once dressed, Olver slung his saddlebags over his should and opened the door quietly. Looking to the left, he saw a hallway that ended with stairs leading down to the common area. To the right, stairs led upwards. Not exactly what he had in mind, but perhaps if he could get on top of the roof, he could make his way down to the stables from another building. Smiling, Olver turned right. As quietly as he could, Olver made his way down the hallway carefully positioning each footfall on sturdy floorboards that did not squeak. As he approached the corner that connected to the stairs leading upward, he dropped down to one knee. Digging into his cloak, he pulled out a small mirror. Carefully using the mirror to get a vantage of the stairwell, his smile vanished.

On top of the stairs, next to the door leading to the roof, a stocky Tairen man sat whittling a piece of wood. "Ellen Sedai is waiting for you _down_stairs," the man said.

Great. A warder. Just what he needed. "I simply wanted to get a breath of fresh air. What better place than the rooftop?" Olver responded, getting to his feet. "The streets of Whitebridge can be so congested with street traffic and dust during the day and there are ruffians about."

"In some places, they say the rooftops are the province of thieves. Are you a thief, Master Orlan?" the Warder inquired with a raised eyebrow, casually walking down the steps. Analyzing the situation, Olver decided he could probably incapacitate the warder if necessary, but likely not before creating commotion. No, he needed to talk his way out of this situation without divulging his identity; he was too close.

Olver snorted. "A thief need not use stairways, Warder." He said contemptuously, more angry at himself than the Warder. "Lead me to your Aes Sedai."

In the daylight, the common room of the Red Hawk had lost its festiveness from the previous night. Although the floors were clean, the tables, chairs, and tapestries lining the walls had seen better days. Only a few inhabitants occupied the tables this early in the afternoon. Longingly looking at the doorway to freedom, Olver instead turned and headed a table near the fireplace occupied by Ellen and Melidorine. Aes Sedai he added mentally. Taking the seat closest to the wall, with full vantage of the room, Olver sat down. The Tairen warder let out an audible huff. Apparently he had wanted that same seat. Olver simply smiled at the Warder as the two locked eyes.

"If you two are quite finished, perhaps we can eat," Ellen said tersely, clapping her hands to get the attention of the innkeeper. "You must be hungry."

Shrugging, the Warder took a chair from a nearby table, pulled it up to the wall, and sat uncomfortably close to Olver as he casually surveyed the room, one hand resting on his sword. Olver's smile withered as he realized he was now trapped between the warder on his left, the Aes Sedai Melidorine on his right, and Ellen directly opposite him.

Bloody Aes Sedai probably planned this all along he thought to himself. The smell of something delicious and his rumbling stomach stirred Olver from his reverie.

Not much was said during the meal, a gift for which Olver was thankful. It felt as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. He ate bowl after bowl of the delicious lamb stew brought before him by the innkeeper, Redrik. The Aes Sedai Ellen addressed Redrik with such familiarity that Olver made a mental note never to return to the Red Hawk in Whitebridge since at least one Aes Sedai appeared to frequent the place.

As he ate, Olver thought about which story to tell. Glancing at Ellen over his bowl of stew, Olver quickly tossed out the idea of using his most well worn identity. She's too clever by far that one. She'd see through it quickly. Perhaps a modified version of the story he used in Tear several years back? Yes. That'll have to do. Olver was always quick on his feet. All he needed to do was convince the Aes Sedai that he was unimportant and not dangerous. Given how he had been caught, that shouldn't be too difficult. He chuckled to himself. Bloody women.

"What brings you to Whitebridge, Master Orlan?" asked Melidorine. It was the first time she had spoken to him directly.

Time for business then. Sighing to himself, he put down the hunk of bread he was currently using to sop up the remainder of his fourth bowl of stew and looked at Melidorine. Light, she was beautiful. It was those amazing blue eyes and a graceful neckline. If Olver had one weakness, it was his fondness for women. And ale he added belatedly.

"Business for my lord, Aes Sedai" Olver responded. Finishing off the last of his delicious lunch with ale.

"What type of business," inquired Ellen.

"Horses," he said flatly.

"Horses?" Melidorine repeated skeptically, arching an eyebrow.

"My employer, Count Vasconcelos of Murandy, has a wish to breed Andoran stallions with his mares. He charged me with acquiring suitable stock from the Elayne Trakand's stables," Olver said as innocuously as he could manage. As the words left his mouth, he knew his story sounded thin. Mother's milk, these aren't minor lordlings, but well-traveled, worldly Aes Sedai, he said to himself.

Leaning over the stable, skepticism clearly in her eyes, Ellen pressed him. "I did not realize that there was a large market for Andoran horses in Murandy. Seems to me Saldean horse stock would offer a much better return on one's investment."

"You have a perceptive eye, Ellen Sedai," Olver said noncommittally as he silently cursed himself; this isn't working. He knew he should have played the flamboyant hedge knight. "However, between you and I, my employer does not have the necessarily…capital…required to purchase Saldean stallions. One must make due with what one has at his disposal. Wouldn't you agree, Aes Sedai?" Blood and bloody ashes!

"Shall we drop the façade, Master Orlan?" asked Ellen smugly. "What is your real name? Why are you in Whitebridge? And where did you acquire that ter'angreal in your saddlebags?" With each question, Ellen leaned closer and closer to Olver's face.

Keeping his tone light, Olver responded, "I have told you who I am and what my business I have in Andor. I have committed no offense. It was your companion," Olver gestured to Melidorine with a nod of his head without taking his eyes off Ellen, "who attacked and injured me. I appreciate your hospitality, but it appears this lunch is now over. By your leave."

As he began to get up from the table, Ellen laughingly said, "You are right about one thing, Master Orlan."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Melidorine did inadvertently injure you last night as you made an unwelcomed advance; however, that you carry a ter'angreal on your person is quite curious. Ter'angreal are Aes Sedai business. Sit down."

"Ellen Sedai, there is no need for …" Melidorine began.

"You will be quiet," Ellen snapped, cutting off Melidorine, "and I will have my answers from this young man. I ask you again. Who are you and where did you get that ter'angreal? If you won't answer to me, I will haul you off to the White Tower and you can answer to the Amyrlin Seat herself. Ter'angreal can be dangerous and should not be toyed with, child."

Putting on his best smile, Olver sat back down. Very quietly, meeting her glare with his own, he said flatly, "You will not haul me anywhere, Aes Sedai."

With that the Warder, who up until this point had been so quiet as to go unnoticed, rose to his feet, carefully moved the chair out of the way, placed one hand on his sword, and moved to a protective position between Olver and Ellen. Ready.

The situation was rapidly deteriorating, but Olver knew he remained in control despite what the Aes Sedai thought. His main threat was the Ellen's warder as Melidorine did not appear to have one. Although he faced two Aes Sedai, they clearly had gained the shawl since Tarmon Gai'don. Hopefully they didn't have much experience in using the One Power as a weapon of destruction. Moreover, he had an ace up his sleeve, or more precisely around his neck. How long does it take for an Aes Sedai to achieve that ageless quality, he wondered. He had to stop his musing as Ellen was threatening him once again. He should listen.

"Simply answer our questions truthfully, child, and be on your way. You will have to leave the ter'angreal with us for study of course."

Olver stalled Ellen with a look. "Has the White Tower grown so corrupt with power that it can question, detain, and threaten Andoran citizens without cause, Aes Sedai?" Olver said loudly enough for the other patrons to hear. "Confiscating their property without justification? Is this what the White Tower considers justice these days?" This peeked the interest of a few of the tavern's patrons. The majority, however, clearly did not want to get in the middle of an argument with an Aes Sedai and studied their cups intently.

"Enough of this foolishness," Ellen said as she waved her hands dismissively.

The medallion around Olver's neck went ice cold. Ellen's eyes widened as she must have watched her weaves disintegrate around the foxhead medallion around Olver's neck. In an instant, Olver lurched to the right and kissed a wide-eyed Melidorine on the cheek as he shoved the table forward, hitting a surprised Ellen in her chest with a yelp. Standing up, he sharply threw the ball he had moved from his cuff to the palm of his hand at the feet of Ellen's warder. As the ball hit the ground, it erupted in a loud, but harmless, BANG and flash of blinding white light, momentarily stunning all those who were caught unaware.

Both Aes Sedai covered their eyes with their hands. The warder turned his head away as he moved back one-step, dazed, but still aware.

Immediately, Olver's left arm snaked forward to grab the dazed Warder's sword hand preventing him from drawing his blade. At the same time, he stepped in closer to the warder, more firmly grabbing the warder's wrist. In one fluid movement, Olver pivoted on the ball of his right foot, moving behind the warder, as he twisted the warder's hand and wrist in an upward direction, pinning the warder's sword arm to his back at an awkward ninety-degree angle. With his right hand, Olver grabbed the warder's right shoulder. From this position, Olver had complete control over the warder's movements as he couldn't move without first breaking his sword arm. He needed to incapacitate the warder before the Aes Sedai could regroup.

Shrugging, Olver gave the warder an apologetic look and whispered, "Sorry, friend." Olver delivered a sharp, forceful kick to the outside of the Warder's left knee. With a sickening snap of bone and ligament, the Warder went down in a howl of pain. With the warder threat neutralized, he turned on a surprised Ellen. Though she had recovered from the misdirection, she had not yet come to terms with her failing weaves as she continued to fling her arms in his direction with no results.

Chuckling, Olver lamented, "I told you I had no wish to go with you this day. You should have left it at that, Aes Sedai." Olver leisurely kneeled down to grab his saddlebags. Wait, where is the other Aes Sedai he thought to himself.

As he looked to his right, to where she had been sitting all afternoon, he saw that her chair was no longer occupied. Instead, she was standing a few feet away with a wry grin on her face.

"Blood and Bloody…" Olver yelled as a stout wooden table came flying at him from Melidorine's direction. For the second time in less than a day, the world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Olver awoke to darkness. Disoriented, he tried to adjust his eyes to his surroundings, fixating on anything that might give him clues as to his location. He seemed to be on a bed of some sort. Thankfully, he was fully dressed this time. To his right, he could see a distant flickering light through what appeared to be a small window. Perhaps a door? As quietly as he could, Olver got up, and, arms stretched out in front of him for protection against any unseen object, and moved towards the door. Making it to the far end of the room, he pressed his head up against the door. Wood. Looking out the window, he could see a dimly lit corridor. The only thing he could make out on either side through the flickering torchlight was other doors on either side of the corridor. So, a dungeon of some sort. Fantstic.

"Blood and ash—" Olver began, but was cut off mid sentence.

"You know, you really ought to come up with a better curse, otherwise people might think you daft," said a familiar voice from the opposite side of the room.

Olver jumped at the unexpected voice. Turning towards it, he tried to see through the darkness, but failed. Just then, a spherical light took shape seemingly out of nowhere. As the light intensified, it began to light up the room, and its occupants.

The room was small. Aside from the bed, and a chamber pot, the only other piece of furniture he could see was occupied by the Aes Sedai with beautiful eyes from the other night.

"My lady, if you wanted to get me alone in a room, there are more, um, traditional methods of courtship than kidnapping," Olver said casually. Slowly, he walked back to the bed and sat down, smiling. He patted the space next to him suggestively.

Amused, Melidorine said, "You are awfully confident for a man locked in a cell beneath the White Tower facing the Question. Ellen Sedai is meeting with the Amyrlin Seat as we speak. I suspect a White will be along any second."

Olver shrugged nonchalantly. The bloody White Tower, perfect! And a White coming to Question him. This is not good. Since the Last Battle, and the failure of the Dragon's Peace, the war with the Seanchan had gone badly. The leadership in the White Tower split on how to deal with the encroaching Seanchan threat. Some wanted to use diplomacy and negotiation, others believed that militarization of the Aes Sedai was the only recourse. It was not a split in the Tower like before the Last Battle, more of a disagreement about how to define the White Tower's role in the world after Tarmon Gai-don.

Taking matters into their own hands, a small group of Blues ordered the assassination of Tuon, the Seanchan Empress. The assassination attempt went badly. Instead of killing Tuon, the assassin killed her young daughter, Maya. Seachan Blood Knives caught the assassin and exposed the link to the White Tower publically. In response, the White Tower made the extraordinary step of publically condemning the actions of what they called "rogue Aes Sedai" acting of their own volition. The Sitters in the White Tower excommunicated all Aes Sedai associated with the assassination plot. Finally, in a remarkable (some say weak) show of contrition, the Amyrlin Seat stepped down. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Any hope of negotiation between the White Tower and the Seanchan ended with Maya's death. Under Tuon's orders, Mat's armies pushed out of Tarabon and seized Arad Doman in a brutal and costly campaign. The entire city of Darluna, which was the historic site where Rodel Ituralde's small army defeated a much larger Seanchan force, was razed to the ground. There were no Domani survivors, military or civilian. Although no one knows their next move, it appears that Ghealdean is the most logical option since moving against Saldaea or the Two Rivers would force Borderlanders' hand.

In any event, with this new turn of events, hawkish Sitters had enough support to move to militarize the White Tower, and forced the more moderate voices to the sidelines. A new Amyrlin from the Green was raised. Whereas previously the White Tower's role had be to gently guide from behind the curtains, the new White Tower has taken a much more direct role in politics. The Seanchan are perceived to be an existential threat to the Aes Sedai way of life, and the White Tower has chosen not to stand back as the world in which they helped guide and shape for a millennia crumbles at their feet on their watch. The White Ajah have, surprisingly, played an interesting role in this new White Tower. Given their zeal for truth and reverence of logic over emotion, the First Reasoner has transformed the White into a highly effective interrogation unit. The ranks of the White have grown exponentially over the years, as has their reputation for ruthless efficiency.

Olver needed to get out of here, now. How many times did Mat or Talmanes get in trouble because of a woman!? Swearing off women altogether, he analyzed his situation. Stuck in the White Tower with no means of escape, his prospects looked bleak. Perhaps if he could manipulate Melidorine, he might have a shot. All he needed to do is win her over. He should talk about her beauty; Mat always said that's the fastest way to get out of trouble with women.

Putting on his best smile, Olver stood up, and performed a courtly bow. Talmanes would be impressed by that, he thought to himself.

"My lady, it appears you have me at a disadvantage. I am but a poor man, looking to fulfill my lords contract…"

"Of horses."

"Yes, that's exactly it. Of horses."

"For a horse trader, you have some…shall we say…interesting tools concealed within your cloak. Potions, powders, lock picks, and an impressive assortment of knives. Some might view these tools, not of animal husbandry, but of an assassin."

"Did I mention how beautiful you look in that dress? It accentuates your features very nicely." He needed time to think. Perhaps he could kill her and make his escape? Oh, that's brilliant. Killing an Aes Sedai would be nearly impossible without his foxhead medallion or weapons of some kind. Suppose you succeed, genius, do you plan to just run through the halls of the White Tower hoping no one will notice you? He needed a plan. He was running out of time and options.

Refusing the bait, Melidorine simply stated, "You're running of out time."

Is she reading my thoughts!? "My lady, since you have already gone through my bags, you should have found the documentation that proves my innocence."

"To which documents are you referring? The one that claims you are a minor noble from Tear looking to extend routes of trade? Or perhaps the one that suggested you won a knightship from the King of Saldea? A merchant of Illian? My favorite has to be your letter stating that you are the long lost brother to the Queen of Andor seeking asylum for the unfortunate death of a minor noble whom you killed in duel because he made slanderous remarks about the Queen. So which is it?" inquired Melidorine sweetly.

"Your eyes are more beautiful than the bluest sky on a summer day." He knew he was in big trouble. "Your voice is like the sweet caress of a warm wind on a cool spring day." How is he going to get out of here? "Your lips are softer than the ripest tomato…"

"Does this usually work for you?"

"Huh?"

"That. Praising a woman's beauty as if the very act of complimenting a woman will somehow get you out of trouble, or into her bed. Does it work for you?"

"I..uh…well, you see…"

"You seem to think that women haven't the capacity to see through your cow dung; as if the space between our ears is empty. Is that what you think? Do you think all women…do you think I am stupid? You should reconsider what you think you know about women because, clearly, whoever taught you about us didn't know what he was about." Laughing, Melidorine continued. "At least you could have been more original. Light! You were quoting lines from 'The Farmer's Daughter' we heard in the tavern the other night!"

"Um, I…" Blood and ashes, this always seemed to work for Mat!

"Shall we start again? Perhaps this time you can leave out all the lies. You were about to tell me your real name and how you came in possession of a ter'angreal that melts through weaves like a hot knife through butter."

Resigned, Olver laid back down on the bed, refusing to answer the Aes Sedai's questions. After awhile she stopped questioning him, realizing her efforts were futile. In the distance, Olver heard the turn of a metal lock and the squeak of a door opening. Soft footfalls became louder as they approached.

"You know, you can save yourself a lot of trouble, and pain, if you would stop being so stubborn and answer our questions," Melidorine pleaded.

Olver closed his eyes and thought about his dance with Melidorine the other night. Oh, it had been fun. She seemed a totally different person in the White Tower.

"If there is one thing of which you can be certain," she said as she got up and moved towards the door, "there will be pain." Opening the door, another figure entered the room. Taller than most men, this woman was dressed entirely in white. She had short, curly blond hair and green eyes, and an emotionless expression on her face. Olver thought if she ever smiled, she might be pretty. He didn't think she smiled often.

"I am Aylsia," the woman said is a flat voice, "you will come with me." Turning, she proceeded out the door and down the hallway.

Seeing that he had no choice, and didn't care to be dragged by the two impressive, burly guards flanking the doorway to his cell, Olver stood up and followed Alysia and Melidorine down the dimly lit corridor.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking through corridors and going down stairwells, Alysia stopped at a door. "You may leave us," she said as she opened the door.

Leaving Olver with an enigmatic look, Melidorine turned on her heel and disappeared around a corner with the two guards. Sighing heavily, Olver stepped into the room. Having been in similar circumstances years before, he was taken aback by what he saw in the room. There were no implements of torture strewn about the room. No hooks, no knives, or pinchers on a table. No chains on the walls or stretching racks. No pools of blood on the floor. The walls, ceiling, and floor were an immaculate white. The room was simply bare, except for one unadorned chair in the center. There were no windows. He supposed that with the use of One Power to facilitate the interrogation, the use of other instruments would be redundant.

"Sit down," Alysia commanded, gesturing to the chair.

Olver sat down in the chair as Alysia paced in front of him. She didn't look at him. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten he was in the room. Alysia looked as if she was concerned about other things.

After what seemed like hours, she simply asked, "What is your name?"

"Orlan," he responded.

Spinning on him with a quickness he had not expected, she came inches away from her face, her fierce green eyes searching his. "Liar," she spat.

Olver simply smiled.

If his impertenance infuriated Alysia, she gave no sign. Instead, she asked a series of rapid-fire questions, leaving him no time to respond: "Why were you in Whitebridge? Who is your employer? Why do you carry assassin's weapons? How did you find out about the parley? How did you plan to assassinate the Queen?"

Parley? What is going on here? He was genuinely confused. He had been tracking two Aiel when he lost their trail around Whitebridge. He simply went into the town for some drink and perhaps answers. He knew nothing about a parley. If they thought he was part of some plot…Light!

Before he could profess his innocence, he felt a tingling sensation on his arm. It didn't hurt, it was more like a caress, the soft touch of wind gliding along your arm on a breezy summer day.

"You know, since Tarmon Gai'don, Aes Sedai have been experimenting with weaves of Spirit. Spirit is such an interesting weave because with the proper training, an experienced Aes Sedai can Heal the most serious of injuries: cauterize wounds, knit together flesh," Alysia lectured as if Olver was a student. "But used in a slightly different manner, Spirit can be used to manipulate nerve endings and enhance sensory function so as to cause pain on an immeasurable scale. Like so."

Invisible bands of Air locked his arms, legs, and chest to the chair. He couldn't move. Breathing became difficult as the bands of Air constricted his chest uncomfortably. The soft caress on his arm was replaced by a burning sensation. Initially it was merely uncomfortable like when one gets too close to a fire and pulls away. Increasingly, however, the pain increased to such an extent that he entire arm felt as if it were doused in flame. Olver screamed in pain.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain vanished in an instant. Sweat dripped from his head. Tears flowed freely down his face. His breath came out in short, ragged gasps.

Continuing as if nothing had happened, looking past him at some unknown point in the distance, Alysia said, "Of course, before Tarmon Gai'don, the Three Oaths prevented Aes Sedai from using the One Power as a weapon except in the defense of her life or that of her Warder. The Articles of Militarization changed all that. They eased the restrictions placed on Aes Sedai in their use of the One Power. We still cannot lie, but the other Oaths have been somewhat relaxed. Now we are free to use the One Power in defense of this land against the Seanchan threat, or against any deemed threatening to the Aes Sedai, the White Tower, or our way of life. The language in those documents is so vague that the room for interpretation is vast. Yet, as the nature of our enemy changes, it is only logical that Aes Sedai adapt. Wouldn't you agree?" she asked, leaning over him, peering into his eyes.

He expected to find some sort of telltale sign of madness in her eyes, like some Asha'man had before Rand cleansed _saidin. _ Instead, he found something much scarier: a blank, emotionless face. She saw him like a logic puzzle that simply needed to be solved. How one solves the puzzle is irrelevant so long as it is solved in the end.

Not knowing what to say, he remained quiet, but did not flinch from her hawk-like glare.

Straightening, Alysia began to tap her index finger on her front tooth reflexively. "I can see that it is going to take some time to get to the truth. But, I assure you, you will answer my questions truthfully."

Turning towards the door, she causally suggested over her shoulder, "You need some time to consider what I have told you. I see that," she reached for the door handle and opened it. "But before I go, let me leave you with something to think about." She said as she closed the door to his screams.

Time held no meaning any longer. He couldn't say if he had been in the white room for minutes, hours, or days. His voice had long since failed him from his screams. Breathing itself had become excruciating. His throat was so swollen that it was nearly impossible to swallow. Each time he tried, all he tasted was blood. Thankfully, the interrogation had stopped, briefly. Alysia said he needed time to contemplate.

Alysia never deviated from her line of questioning: who was he? Who did he work for? How did he find out about the parley? How did he plan to assassinate the Queen? He knew nothing about a parley nor any plot to kill the Queen of Andor. Who would want Elayne dead? Certainly not him. Though he hadn't seen Elayne in nearly fifteen years, he wished her no ill will. He needed to figure out a way to convince this Aes Sedai that he was innocent of the charges laid against him. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The question was how to do that without divulging his association with the Guild. In the end, he decided it no longer mattered. Exposing the Guild was a death sentence, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. He just wanted the pain to stop. He was willing to tell Alysia everything…anything…so long as the pain stopped.

He heard the faint footfalls of someone approaching his room. The telltale sign that Alysia had returned to recommence her questioning. Straightening as best he could with the restraints of Air limiting his movements, Olver decided he tell her everything with as much dignity as one could muster sitting in one's own excrement, defeated. The door to the white room opened and Alysia's familiar face walked through the door.

"Have you reconsidered your intransigence?" asked Alysia in a voice which suggested she didn't care one way or the other.

"Yes," Olver croaked in a voice barely above a whisper. It was all he could manage.

"Excellent. I'm glad you have seen the error of your ways." Turning away from him, she yelled, "Guards!"

"Yes, Alysia Sedai," two guards said in unison as they entered the white room.

"Clean him up and bring him to the Amyrlin immediately. The prisoner wishes to confess." Turning back to him, Alysia tilted her head sideways in contemplation. "Wait. This won't do."

Olver felt an icy pain run through his body. In minutes, he was gasping for air from the shock of the Healing that Alysia had just performed.

"There. Now, off with you," she said, motioning to the two guards with a dismissive wave of her hand. They grabbed Olver roughly by the arms, lifted him out of the chair, and half-dragged him through the White Tower.

An hour later, Olver was standing next to Aslyia in the Keeper's office awaiting the Amyrlin Seat. "The Amyrlin do be busy. Wait there," the Keeper said, vaguely gesturing off towards the chairs along the wall without looking up from her notes.

Although he had been to the White Tower many times over the years, he had never been to see the Amyrlin Seat. He had no need and only fools came willingly. The Keeper's office was much as one might expect. The Keeper, a blue, was from Illian judging by her accent. The room was modestly decorated with tapestries adorning the walls and plush chairs lining waiting area. The room centered around the Keeper's desk with her at seat furiously pouring over dispatches. Behind the Keeper's desk stood the door to the Amyrlin's office. Scribbling furiously on documents, the Keeper turned one large stack into two smaller stacks. Apparently, those issues that did not merit the Amyrlin's attention went into the smaller of the two stacks.

Olver shifted his feet uncomfortably which earned him as "Tsk" of disapproval from Alysia. He didn't move his feet again. A little while later, the door to the Amyrlin's office opened and a girl in white fled in tears.

"You may enter," the Keeper said, never looking up from her reports.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Olver walked into the Amyrlin's office. The room was austere. Aside from a few pieces of functional furniture, the room was otherwise unfurnished. On the far wall, above the fireplace, a large painting stood as the room's only embellishment. The scene displayed was of Dragonmount. Dark clouds swirled furiously in a tempest above its peaks. Much of the painting was done in dark colors giving the scene a sense of ominous foreboding. Radiating out from the center of all that darkness was a brilliant beam of pure white light, piercing the darkness. Off in the distance, in the background, the White Tower stood no less brightly amidst the gathering storm. It was quite the moving scene. Shifting his gaze from the tapestry to the woman seated behind the desk in the center of the room, the Amyrlin was not as he expected. She appeared to be a rather short women with plain features. No one would call her pretty. He had fiery red hair, tied back in a severe bun that stretched her facial features. Her face was lightly covered in freckles with bright green eyes and a pointed nose. She didn't appear to be full-blooded Saldean, but her high cheekbones certainly suggested she had Saldean blood running through her veins.

Remembering where he was, Olver immediately dropped to one knee. Head down, left hand balled in a fist touching his heart, while his right fist touched the ground in the Andoran fashion. "Mother," he said simply.

"Alysia tells me you have plotted to assassinate the Queen of Andor," said the Amyrlin Seat matter-of-factly in a high-pitched voice.

Since it wasn't a question, Olver was unsure of how to respond.

Taking his silence for intransigence, turning to Alysia, the Amyrlin Seat said, "You informed me this one was ready to confess to his crimes. Have you been derelict in your duty, White?"

"Mother, this man has stated he is ready to confess," Aylsia responded flatly. "But, perhaps, I have been rash in my judgment."

"Leave us," the Amyrlin Seat commanded, dismissing Alysia. "Inform Aniss that I do not wished to be disturbed for whatever reason for the next twenty minutes."

"By your leave, Mother," Alysia said simply and turned on her heal to leave.

After the door closed, the Amyrlin Seat walked over to inspect a still-kneeling Olver. "On your feet, child. I wish to have a look at your face," directed the Amyrlin Seat.

Towering over the much shorter Amyrlin Seat, Olver met her eyes with his own. "No one has ever accused you of being handsome, have they child?" the Amyrlin asked.

Smiling, Olver said, "I have my moments." Immediately he knew that was the wrong thing to say as the Amyrlin's eyes narrowed in displeasure. Casting his eyes downward, and slouching his shoulders, Olver attempted a less-confident, less-assuming stance.

Tsking, the Amyrlin asked, "Since you seem to be incapable of answering difficult questions, let's start with an easy one." Holding up a hand to forestall him, she continued, "and remember, answer me truthfully and I may spare you from another _session_ with Anysia. What is your name?"

Internally shuddering, Olver took a deep breath. "My name is …"

"Olver, adopted son of the rapscallion, and _traitor_, Matrim Cauthon," said a female voice from behind him that he felt he vaguely recognized.

Swiveling in the direction of the other voice, Olver took a step back before recognition hit him. He immediately dropped to his knee once again, "My Queen."

"Get up, you fool, and let me have a look at you," ordered Elayne Trakand, Queen of Andor and Cairhein. Rising to his feet, he met Elyane's eyes with his own. The last fifteen years had aged her, but in such a way that extenuated, rather than diminished her beauty. The agelessness of one who has used the One Power for a long time had only enhanced her features. She red-gold hair cascaded down her back in rivulets, while at the same time, framing her face perfectly. Her bright blue eyes shone with intelligence and kindness. Her smile, too, seemed genuine.

"It is _you!_" she yelped as she ran to him and embraced him in a fierce hug.

"Your Grace…._ELAYNE_," said an exasperated Amyrlin, "perhaps you should…disentangle…yourself from this young man since we _are_ trying to determine _how_ and _why_ he wishes to _assassinate_ you?"

Releasing Olver from her grip, Elayne said dismissively with the wave a her hand, "Mother, _please_. Olver has no wish to assassinate me as he would Talmanes Delovinde, Thom Merrilin, or Matrim Cauthon himself." The last name she said with an inflection, which suggested simply saying his name caused her pain. "Would you, Olver?"

Still in shock from seeing Elayne for the first time in fifteen years, Olver stammered, "I…"

"You see! He is as harmless as a puppy!" Elayne laughed with delight.

"That remains to be seen," the Amyrlin said in a voice that clearly indicated she thought Elayne was behaving like a child. "There's still the matter of the suspicious armaments and _other_ equipment he had on his person during the place and time of the scheduled parley. We have had reports…"

"Mother," Elayne said in a no-nonsense, commanding Queen's voice, as she rounded on the Amyrlin Seat, "_You _have detained, questioned, and _tortured_ an Andoran _citizen_ without proper justification based on, at best, circumstantial evidence. You _will_ return Olver's property to him and you _will_ release him into my custody this minute."

At that moment, as the two most powerful women on this continent stared down each other in a match of wills, Olver thought that he would rather be _anywhere_ but here, even in Alysia's white room. He shifted his feet uncomfortably as he stared intently at a small stain on the Amyrlin Seat's rug.

"Very well, Elayne. I will do as you ask, however, there is the business with the ter'angreal. It should be kept in the White Tower for study," the Amyrlin said.

"I said _all_ property, Mother. That ter'angreal is the property of Matrim Cauthon. He paid dearly for it and it _belongs_ to him. Whatever else he has done, he deserves that much. If he has gifted it to his son, who are we to interfere?" Elayne said matter-of-factly.

The Amyrlin nodded her accent and dismissed them with the wave of her hand.

Sliding her arm into his, an almost giddy Elayne said, "Come along Olver, let me show you what we've done with Camylen while you've been away!"

Olver turned to the Amyrlin Seat, shrugged apologetically, and let Elayne guide him out of the White Tower.


End file.
